


Elinor and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Nature Walk

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: A truly improbable amount of orgasms, Anal Sex, And your family's Lovecraftian colonialist bargain that engendered the monsterfucking, Aphrodisiacs, Creampie, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gangbang, I got weirdly attached to Elinor while writing this, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Magical Tentacle Monster Aphrodisiac/Analgesic, Masturbation, Mind Break, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Possibly incest depending on your opinions of a. cousins, TECHNICALLY they are wolfmen not werewolves, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Welcome To My Pure Undiluted Id - It Is Full Of Monster Dick, Werewolves, You go girl. Sorry about all the monsterfucking and your jerkoff cousin, and b. neither party treating it as an overt attraction to the other, which felt weird bc I made her up for the purpose of getting totally railed, wish i was full of monster dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Elinor discovers a family tradition.[List of contents and CWs in the intro note. To get a larger summary, click entire work and ctrl+F "OVERLONG PLOT SUMMARY".]
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Tentacle Monster/Original Female Character, Werewolves/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 157
Collections: Anonymous





	1. The Creature of the River

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS:
> 
> Chapter 1: Tentacle monster/Elinor  
> Chapter 2: Elinor’s dick of an older cousin/Elinor (not in, like, an “I actually want to fuck you” way but in an “I’m cool with setting you up to get extremely-dubiously-consensually-at-best fucked by various monsters/am actually doing so, and will touch up on you to keep you riled in the meantime” way); like nine wolfmen/Elinor
> 
> GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS INC. + BEYOND THOSE IN THE TAGS: Monster-on-human fucking, inc. non-humanoid monsters, inc. monsters with inability to communicate with humans (except via means which victim has no access to); outright rape turning into aphrodisiac-induced dubcon (i.e. victim begins to enjoy it while forced into a mind-altering state & is maintained in said state for that purpose); anally-administered aphrodisiacs; nonconsensual sexual contact (groping & fingering) between cousins (see also: mind-altering state, begins to enjoy); sex implied to continue while victim/receptive partner is unconscious. I may have missed some, IDK, by this point you probably know what you’re getting into. There is also just a whole lot of cum. Biological reality re: upper limit of orgasms possible in one day, elasticity and resilience of average human vagina, etc. has been judiciously ignored for horny reasons.

It had been a perfectly _beastly_ day, and it was barely two o’clock yet.

Elinor had been horribly deceived by the morning fog and chill into dressing warmly for her solo ramble through the woods of her cousin’s estate, and now she had to carry her coat _and_ her cardigan sweater, in addition to the picnic basket (she still had yet to find a decent spot to sit and eat, everywhere she looked being soaked in mud or choked through with what Elinor was _sure_ was poison ivy), and the hem of her skirt was just ruined with mud and burrs, and she’d sweated right through her chemise, and her shoes pinched terribly, and she hadn’t eaten since she’d left the mansion that morning, and in this current mood of hers she couldn’t help but chew over every embarrassment she’d undergone in her nineteen years of life on this Earth as she walked up the hill, sure that they had all been somehow secretly devised to land her here.

She was just getting to that terrible incident at Agnes Fowler’s eighth birthday party when a gust of wind nearly snatched Elinor’s hat from her head, despite the hatpins, pulling some of her brown hair out of its upsweep into the bargain. She yelped and clapped one hand to her hat, pitching forward slightly, and only barely managed not to turn an ankle. When she steadied herself, she realized she could hear running water.

On reaching the top of the rise, it was as if all her previous terrible mood was wiped away. Below her, Elinor saw the shallow river making its way through a glade blessedly free of poison ivy, muck, or swarming insects, generously shaded, leaves moving in a much slighter breeze than that she was exposed to on the hilltop. Cheered, Elinor picked her way carefully down the slope and into the clearing, where she looked around once more. It was just as her cousin Charles had described to her—and she had become a little nervous, truly, that she had misfollowed his directions or that he had given her false ones, Charles was genial enough now but when Elinor had been a child, and he a teenager, he had had a mean streak that often culminated in getting her terribly lost in places like the city zoo. But none of that, now; Elinor felt much refreshed already, and went to hang her coat and sweater on a branch low enough for her to reach, unpinning her hat to leave it there as well.

With that taken care of, Elinor sat down on the grass, not overly mindful any longer of her skirt (the ground felt quite dry here, and it needed a good wash anyway) and opened her picnic basket. She unwrapped an egg salad sandwich, uncorked a bottle of ginger beer, and leaned back against the tree to enjoy her solitude. She ate slowly and deliberately, despite her hunger, determined to draw out the act of sating it. The sandwich likely wasn’t worth the effort, if she really thought about it, but Elinor resolved not to think about it, and instead to focus on how nice it was to be outside now that she had found apparently the only portion of outside on the whole Barnes property that warranted the journey. Eventually, she had worked her way through the sandwiches, and she reclined once more against the tree, absentmindedly tracking a dragonfly’s zigzagging progress along the riverbank.

The river was shaded and made a very pleasant sound, and the more she looked at it, the more Elinor considered—not necessarily going for a swim, as fully disrobing would require fully dressing later on, but surely soaking her feet, at least, would be wonderful. They still ached; let this be the last time she was foolish enough to wear new shoes on a nature walk! She leaned down and unlaced them, pulling them off and lining them neatly by the basket, and then she reached up under her skirts to unclip her stockings from her corset and roll those down as well. Hiking her skirt and petticoat up to her knees, Elinor made her way to the riverbank and sat, dangling her feet in the water. The cold, at first jarring, soothed the ache beautifully, and she sighed in contentment, leaning back on her palms and gazing up through the leaves at the blue sky above.

Something brushed her ankle.

Elinor kicked reflexively. A minnow, she thought, it must want to see what’s intruding on its…well, not _turf_ , but. She shifted forward, wondering if she could catch sight of it, and then something brushed her ankle again and, this time, wrapped around it.

“What—” Elinor began, and then she was hauled with surprising force into the water. She splashed, flailing, and managed to regain her feet knee-deep in the river, but whatever it was still had her ankle, and yanked again, ducking her a second time. Elinor struggled to right herself, and something seized her other ankle, and one wrist, and by the time she had stopped spluttering river water enough to register that, something _else_ had wrapped around her waist, and just as suddenly as she had been pulled into the river she was hoisted dripping out of it and into the air above the bank.

She yelled in surprise, kicking at whatever held her—they were—tentacles, almost, like pictures she’d seen of octopi, but smoother, rounder and suckerless and jade-green in color. They rose from the water, but she couldn’t make out if they were connected to anything, and that somehow made it worse. Elinor twisted, trying to pull the blasted thing away from her wrist, and shouted “Help! Someone!” There was nobody nearby, she knew, but it seemed the thing to do if one was grabbed. She kicked her legs again, and then shrieked as she felt the, the tentacles, moving _up_ her legs, up under her soaked skirt and petticoat, almost tickling as they went. Another one shot from the river and wrapped itself around her chest, just beneath the armpits, and then more followed, a whole host of tentacles surging up from the water, hovering around her body.

Heart hammering in her throat, Elinor managed to croak “ _Help_ ,” green eyes just about starting from their sockets. The tentacles began moving slowly over and around her, prodding at her with their tips, stroking through her draggled hair. One poked the side of her nose, her cheek, and then pressed flat against her throat and dragged all the way down her front, and Elinor shivered involuntarily. She gasped a couple more words of protest, not sure what she was addressing them to—the tentacles, individually, or whatever was controlling them, if they were all being controlled by the same thing? The clearing was quiet, except for the burble of the river and her own labored breathing. The tentacles coiling up her legs had reached the back of her knees, and she kicked some more, to no greater effect than she had achieved the first two times.

With a scream, she was unceremoniously flipped upside down, skirt falling heavy and wet over her face; Elinor struggled to no avail, and nothing more happened for a second, and then something pressed against her drawers, rubbing between her legs, and Elinor yelled “No! _Help_! Please!” to the empty clearing. Just as quickly the tentacles turned her back so that she was parallel to the ground. Elinor’s face was flushed, normally pale skin gone a deep pink, and she panted with fear and tried again to pull her hand free. “Please,” she repeated, more quietly, “someone, help…” and then trailed off into a shuddering moan when one of the tentacles stroked her face and down her neck.

It traveled further, beneath the high collar of her shirtwaist—and then suddenly yanked, hard enough to pop the top couple buttons free. Elinor shouted in outraged horror.

The tentacles set to work on her clothing, ripping and tearing industriously despite Elinor’s struggles. With her one free hand, she managed to grab one of the tentacles and yank it away from the waistband of her skirt, only for it to slide eel-slick through her grip to twine up her arm and join the other ones pulling at her shirtwaist.

“No,” she cried out, “no, let go, _stop_ ,” an exercise in complete futility as her clothes fell away, and then she screamed in pure fear as more of the tentacles, in concert, ripped apart her corset. The _strength_ required for such a feat—! And before she had recovered from that shock her drawers were torn away, too, and the tentacles continued their inexorable crawl up under her short chemise, coiling around her, pinning her arms to her sides, their cool, slippery skin breaking her out in gooseflesh. Elinor moaned, and managed to stutter out another “stop, please,” writhing against their hold as they held her suspended off the ground.

The—what Elinor supposed was the creature’s main body heaved itself into view over the bank, an amorphous mass, maybe six feet high and as many around, of a slightly darker green than the tentacles emanating from it. It was almost completely featureless—she couldn’t make out eyes, mouth, organs, _anything_ but long, boneless limbs. Nevertheless, it pulled her closer to itself, as if examining her. The tentacles wrapped around her thighs suddenly yanked them wide apart—Elinor screamed and kicked out—and several small tentacles, perhaps the width of her little finger, reached from the center mass, waving inquisitively in her direction. It was…it was _scenting_ her, she realized with a shudder. They extended further and further (a much thicker tentacle, meantime, wrapped tight around her hips to still their frantic twisting) until their tips just barely grazed her lower lips. Elinor sobbed, the creature’s intention now unmistakeable.

And then those tentacles withdrew. She lifted her head slightly, barely daring to hope that maybe she _had_ mistaken its intentions, and it would just let her go, but the thin tentacles retreated fully into the main body, and it relaxed its grip on her legs—she pulled them together as far as she was able. Relief flooded through her, to such an extent that Elinor barely noticed one of the tentacles supporting her head rearranging itself until its blunt tip nudged her cheek and moved against her lips.

She turned her head away in disgust at the slimy thing, but it persisted, poking and prodding at her lips until it managed to wriggle between them and shove into her mouth. Elinor gagged and shoved at it with her tongue, trying to get it out, but to no avail; in fact, the pressure only seemed to encourage the creature. Biting rose to mind, but the memory of how easily this beast had torn away her corset was still fresh, and so was the fear of what else it might be capable of if angered. All she could do was make protesting noises around the thick appendage. As she did so, it began to exude some sort of thin fluid, which tasted overpoweringly of fennel with a bitter undertone that made her cringe. She coughed and spluttered as the fluid filled her mouth, spilling out around the tentacle, which had begun to thrust shallowly. Soon enough there was nothing for it but to swallow, despite the taste, despite everything, and so, with a defeated shudder, Elinor did. Though the fluid was cool like the tentacles, it left a tingling heat-trail down her throat and into her stomach.

The creature did nothing else, for so long that Elinor began to wonder—was this some sort of beast that, truly, only wished to strip girls almost-naked and have them drink its…its secretions? It had begun to emit a low, rumbling sound that she almost wanted to classify as a purr, and the tentacle thrust in and out of her mouth steady as a metronome, leaking an apparently neverending stream of the fluid. The more of it she swallowed, the more the creature made its sound. It felt strange inside of her, the heat suffusing her stomach and spreading through her limbs—Elinor felt warm, and strangely lightheaded, and it wasn’t only from fear or from lack of air.

Then a tentacle brushed against her sex and Elinor moaned before she was aware of what she was doing. Hot blood flooded her face and she squeezed her eyes shut; she might not have been able to escape but there was a _limit_ to how much she would participate in her own, her own _degradation_ at the hands of some monster unknown to science. That tentacle repeated its motion: not the tip, but the length of it, dragging between her lower lips, back and forth, reminding her shamefully of the experiments she had first embarked upon as a girl of fourteen, pulling her drawers tight between her legs and rubbing against the seam, rubbing against pillows, and _oh_ how she had barely understood the sensations to which she completely surrendered herself…Elinor shook her head. No, no, that wasn’t—that didn’t bear thinking about, not now, of all times and places! But when she tried to jerk her legs closed, and the creature allowed it, the increased pressure it afforded against her sex only heightened that ( _detestable!_ ) pleasure, and Elinor’s hips shuddered and twitched as she whimpered around the tentacle filling her mouth. More tentacles began to creep over her body, brushing against the join of thigh and buttock, slipping down her shoulders to her small breasts still half-covered by her sweat-damp chemise.

Those tentacles pulled the chemise down and lifted her breasts free—surprisingly gently, for a creature so apparently content to reduce the rest of her clothing to rags on the riverbank—and began, and there was no other word for it, to fondle them, squeezing them and pressing them together. Elinor cried out softly, in protest, yes, in _protest_ , not at the sudden bloom of heat in her abdomen, not that—! Any reaction seemed to encourage the creature at this point, which flicked the narrow tips of those tentacles over her nipples, already stiffening from exposure.

All its limbs moving in concert, the creature suddenly and smoothly tilted her forwards; no longer parallel to the ground but at an angle to it, so that the tentacles restraining her arms and wrapped around her waist did most of the work in keeping her upright. It would no longer allow her to keep her legs closed, hooking them apart so that Elinor tried, a ridiculous effort and she knew it, to work her hands free and cover herself. All she was allowed to manage was a feeble squirm, ending with a slow, rippling thrust of her hips against the thick tentacle that had not once ceased its ministrations. The one filling her mouth continued its slow, unstoppable motion, forcing soft, slick little noises from her; the mixed saliva and fluid she was unable to swallow began to drip down her chin, onto her chest, where the tentacles wrapped around her breasts spread it, leaving a warm, prickly sensation that seemed to sink _through_ her skin. The small tentacles with which the beast had scented her before began to emerge again; as they did so, the tips of the ones toying with her breasts separated and then clamped down over Elinor’s nipples with a sensation almost like fur, teasing, sucking. Elinor gasped around the tentacle in her mouth, wriggling in the creature’s grip, distracted enough by the pleasure not to register another tentacle slipping along the crease of her hip until it did much the same to her clitoris, and then she _wailed_.

Elinor had never, not once, experienced anything like this, not from use of a pillow, not from her fingers, she hadn’t known her body was even _capable_ of enduring such pleasure. She wasn’t entirely sure that it was capable, at that; the pressure on her clitoris increased and she forgot, briefly, to swallow, choking on the fluid the creature was pumping into her. She shook her head wildly back and forth, hair stuck to her forehead and neck with sweat, whole body straining and arching, pulling into a knot of unbelievable tension. The scenting tentacles grazed over her again, around the thick one that was firmly pressed and rubbing between her lips (or, she was rubbing _it_ between her lips, but no, she couldn’t, she couldn’t allow it—) and Elinor wanted to scream, to beg the thing to stop, stop whatever it was building to, there was no way she could survive ( _could live without_ ) such torment…

The tentacles—on her nipples, her clitoris, scenting and rubbing between her legs—lifted, and the one in her mouth retreated until only the tip spilled its stream of fluid into her mouth. She felt wetness dripping from her sex, and knew it was not from the tentacle. Elinor groaned, eyes blurred with unshed tears. “…Please,” she managed to sob, “please, please, oh, please,” no longer sure what she was begging for, not knowing if the creature could understand her, only knowing that she had to beg for _something_ or she’d go mad. Madder. “Please, no, no, please, I—please, oh, please, let me…” _let me go_ , _let me finish_ , _no more_ , _don’t stop_ , Elinor didn’t _know_ , she only knew that this monster had her and she burned like she had never thought possible. The creature shifted its tentacles, almost cradling her in her angled position, and Elinor felt something nudging against her entrance and knew, whether she said yes or no, that she was lost. “Please,” she moaned. “Oh, God. Please.”

And the tentacles descended again upon her clitoris and her nipples, gentler than before, and as Elinor cried out and writhed that thick tentacle began to press into her, stretching her out so much further than the one or two fingers she had ever been able to take, and like that, so completely filled for the very first time, Elinor wailed her climax around the tentacle stuffing her mouth. She shivered, thighs trembling, squeezing again and again around the tentacle as it made its way deeper and deeper still, seeming to pulse and thicken inside of her, dragging her climax on into endlessness as she wept for the intensity and shame of it, helplessly rolling her hips. Finally, mercifully, the tentacle on Elinor’s clitoris relented and withdrew, and she sagged back into the hold of the other appendages, gasping for breath, eyes unfocused. She sucked at the one in her mouth, which began to thrust in and out again, but the one in her cunt—Elinor’s mind shied away from the word, but it was so _full_ it could be called nothing _but_ —only continued to press deeper, until it could go no farther, and then stilled. With the aftershocks of her climax ebbing away, Elinor became more and more aware of the fact that it hurt, which only made sense as the part of the tentacle visible outside of her looked near as thick as her wrist, but the more she swallowed of the creature’s fluid, the more relaxed she felt and the less it mattered.

The creature made its strange rumbling noise again as she sucked the tentacle, stroking it with her tongue, and squeezed its tentacles around her breasts, pulling away from her nipples to instead flick and rub over them. Elinor almost wanted to think of that as encouragement. The tentacle in her cunt wriggled, and she whined, trying to squirm away from it—that was too much, too much—but it continued moving, pressing up against sensitive spots she hadn’t even known existed, and when another tentacle wrapped over her clitoris and sucked she climaxed almost instantly with a ragged scream. She was given no time to rest; instead, the tentacle pulled out until it was just barely teasing against her lips (Elinor clenched and cried out pathetically at the loss, face heating anew in shame—one thing to be forced to enjoy it, quite another to beg for more) and then plunged back inside, filling her so suddenly that she would have screamed again had the tentacle in her mouth not begun to match its pace, the both of them pounding into her holes with such force that Elinor thought she must split apart from it.

Elinor was given no reprieve this time from the pressure on her clitoris, which steadily increased with the speed and intensity of the tentacles fucking her until, thrashing desperately in the creature’s grip, she climaxed _again_ , sobbing around the tentacle in her mouth, raw and tender and overstretched and with the heat in her belly still, unbelievably, unabated. “No,” she tried to beg, “no, please, it’s too much, I can’t,” but all she could manage was a garbled whine amid the obscene, wet sounds of the tentacle fucking her mouth. The creature hauled her back and forth, _using_ her as a man might use his hand, Elinor left limp and trembling as her body shook with the thrusts, as the suction on her abused clitoris began to build again and no, _no, no, no!_

She screamed once, weakly, and it took every last ounce of her energy to do so as she bore the horrible eternity of her fourth climax, tears coursing down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop shivering, every part of her body completely out of her control. Slick dripped from Elinor’s cunt as it stretched wide around the tentacle, twitching feebly. She sobbed and spasmed, mouth slack around the tentacle, hands clutching reflexively at the air, and Elinor thought she must go mad, completely mad, for she couldn’t stand another second and yet the need inside of her seemed only to grow…

The creature showed some mercy, then, pulling away from her clitoris with a last flick that left her choking, slowing the brutal pace of the tentacle in her cunt to a steady, gentle roll. Elinor moaned in gratitude and weakly laved her tongue over the tentacle in her mouth in an attempt to communicate it to the beast. The tentacles coiled further around her, their cool smoothness providing some relief against Elinor’s oversensitive, tortured skin, pulling her arms up over her head and apart until she was spread-eagled in the air. They began to stroke her: her inner thighs, up to their join with her pelvis, under her chemise to caress her sides and belly, and where it had been pulled back up by the motion of her arms, under to curl around her breasts, the movements soft and soothing. The slow, gentle movements, the caresses and strokes, continued, as Elinor docilely suckled the one tentacle and squeezed around the other, rocked slowly back and forth by the creature until the pleasure began to build again, nearly dreamlike.

Perhaps this was all a dream, at that. Perhaps she’d just fallen asleep underneath the tree. Fallen asleep and dreamed the need slowly invading every inch of her body, making her hot and flushed with it, dreamed of a pleasure so otherworldy that it could return so soon after turning to torment. Elinor allowed her eyelids to flutter closed.

A tentacle flicked over her clitoris again, once, twice, and dispelled that brief fantasy with sharp little jolts of arousal that left her panting, lifting and lowering her hips in a futile attempt to wring more friction from what the creature was willing to give her. And at first, she received nothing more, before the tentacle fucking her deep began to flex and bend inside of her, pressing in long, slow undulations against every inch of her inner walls. Elinor realized that, over her own harsh breathing, she could hear the sloppy noises of its moving and cringed, hiding her face against her upper arm. Her eyes flew open as the tentacle that had flicked her clitoris returned, rolling over it, _toying_ with it, with her, and she shivered and moaned and the knot in her belly tightened and tightened, and Elinor climaxed with a shattered, disbelieving moan, head rolling back.

And it wasn’t that she felt less satisfied, afterwards, but it was as if she had been brought to a plateau instead of a peak—every climax was a climax and yet Elinor was desperate, writhing, for some _thing_ , she didn’t know what, that constantly eluded her. The tentacles still stroked her whole body, almost massaging her, and the thick one in her cunt continued its leisurely motion, plowing her deeper than she’d ever thought possible, and still she was overwhelmed with need that drove every other thought out of her head. She spread her legs wider, hoping that might satisfy herself, might communicate to the creature…Elinor cringed again, trying to pull her legs back together, what was she _thinking_ , asking for more from the monster ravaging her? She wasn’t—she had to—and yet, that terrible, alien need, she didn’t have a chance of sating it on her own, it filled her to her fingers and toes and the very roots of her hair. The creature held her open, anyway, smooth tentacles in an iron grip.

Another tentacle, rather thin, was raised up in front of her swimming eyes, and then lowered to slip under her chemise and trail itself across her belly, the light pressure making her even more aware of the sheer size of the one inside her and of every particular of its motion. It rubbed back and forth, coiling and uncoiling, and Elinor made a little, choked, pleading sound. Then it traveled downward, over her pubic mound, and further. The tentacle traced around her opening, where its sibling continued its leisurely pace. Elinor groaned—the new tentacle was slick with fluid like the one in her mouth, and it felt, it felt so _good_ drawing across her lips—but surely there was no more _room_ inside of her? The creature seemed inclined to agree; the tentacle rubbed against her, moving steadily down, steadily back, until—

Elinor shrieked in protest, even through the thick fog filling her head. Not _there_ , not _that_! It wasn’t, wasn’t…

 _Natural_? Elinor thought. She was being held captive by a monster that shouldn’t exist, pleasured in a way that she was sure no woman (or man, now she thought of it) should be allowed to experience, and now, insofar as the said monster appeared to care that such a line should, or could, exist, she was going to draw that line at _sodomy_? And, too, here she was, near-naked, short chemise clinging to her body with sweat and the creature’s fluids as it groped every inch of her, obediently sucking the tentacle in her mouth and rutting her hips against the one in her sopping-wet cunt, brought to climax again and again at the creature’s whim—it wasn’t as if there was much of her dignity left to preserve, anyway.

Still, when it rubbed against her hole, easing its way with the fluid and just barely insinuating itself inside, she tensed up with a yelp. The creature didn’t slow or stop, instead returning that horrible tentacle with the open tip to her clitoris before Elinor knew what was happening, wringing another climax out of her that seemed to go on for ages, until she didn’t know up from down, and when the fizzing, sparking pleasure subsided enough for her to think again the tentacle was. It was. There was a tentacle _in her ass_ , gradually swelling and thickening, and Elinor could feel it pressing up against the one in her cunt separated by a thin wall of flesh, rubbing against each other, and oh God, it was in her ass, she couldn’t get it out—

And then it released a stream of that fluid, and Elinor’s eyes rolled back in her head; she trembled in the creature’s grip, moaning incoherently, unable to swallow around the one in her mouth, it felt like pure fire running along every nerve. Her cunt twitched, contracting, Elinor might have climaxed again, she couldn’t tell, she was drunk, more than drunk, she was burning up, the tentacles began to move in concert and oh it felt so good, it felt _so good_ , how was she ever meant to survive this? The tentacles began to move in and out of her, now in tandem, now separately, never the same long enough for her to acclimate but always, always filling her so deep that some part of her mind feared she would break apart. More fluid was poured into her, mouth and ass, and the pleas she tried to form around the tentacle in her mouth became garbled nonsense, and the creature drove her to climax, screaming, and then again, weeping, entire body soaked in sweat as Elinor undulated desperately for another scrap of pleasure, another chance at release.

She lost track of her climaxes. Of how long she had been there. Of everything except how perfectly the creature stretched her out and filled her up, her mind bathed in need-fire as every climax left her raw and sobbing and desperate for another, for more, more of _everything_ , thrashing weakly against the tentacles that bound her. Elinor’s muscles shook, exhausted, but she couldn’t think of stopping, she never wanted this to stop—yet if it continued would there be anything left of her?—her cunt dripped almost ceaselessly now, coating her trembling thighs and the curve of her ass with her own slick, and the tentacles rubbing her breasts still spread their soft swells, bouncing with the creature’s powerful thrusts, with the drool and fluid running from Elinor’s mouth, the front of her chemise molded to her torso and nearly translucent. The climaxes kept coming, an endless procession, like waves on the beach with the tide coming in, every recession higher than the one before. The creature made its rumbling noise again, and Elinor _felt_ it in the tentacles and fairly howled.

It kept pounding into her, every so often releasing another burst of fluid into her ass almost as if a reward, and Elinor groaned, head rolling side to side where it was supported by the tentacles. The small one over her clitoris kept up a soft, steady pressure that in truth she barely needed anymore; her whole body felt like a powder keg primed to go off at the slightest touch. And the touches were far more than slight, and she was drowning in them, utterly overwhelmed, utterly thoughtless, as though her insides had been scraped out and replaced with pure want.

The creature rumbled, vibrations pulling Elinor through a shocky, whimpering climax, and then she felt the tentacle in her cunt begin to swell, and wailed at the pressure it put on her ass, on her battered, sensitive inner walls, and then—then—it gushed into her cunt, thick, viscous fluid filling Elinor up and dripping out around the tentacle, on and on, and the ones in her ass and mouth began to release short pulses of their own fluid, in time with sucks from the one on her clitoris, and she was wracked with a final climax, back arching, shivering, moaning loud and long.

Gradually, the flow of fluids subsided as the tentacles lowered her carefully to the ground, laying her on her side and beginning to uncoil from her twitching limbs. The ones inside her shrank a little—Elinor panted hoarsely as her mouth was freed—and then began to pull out of her altogether, the one in her ass leaving a final spurt of fluid like a parting gift. Her cunt clenched weakly as the tentacle pulled free, the viscous liquid it had left behind seeping steadily out. Elinor sighed quietly, empty and relieved…

And then her eyes shot wide and she whimpered, disbelieving, “ _No_ ,” as the need surged back into her fivefold, tenfold; she grabbed clumsily for one of the tentacles, any of them, but they were all slipping away from her, caressing her skin and trailing off into the grass as the creature submerged its main body in the river once more. She whimpered again, skin cold, insides pulsing with the desperate need for something, anything, to fill her once more and drag her screaming through climax after climax. Her tongue felt thick and not her own, but she managed to force out a “Please—don’t, no, come back…” and that effort was in vain; Elinor watched, writhing feebly on the ground, as the final tentacles began to release her legs.

The tentacles fully withdrew, slipping back into the water and leaving Elinor crumpled on the ground, eyes glazed, trembling; hardly aware of her own motions, of anything but the ache in her empty cunt, she rolled onto her front and lifted her hips, rubbing her sore clitoris, plunging her fingers into the mess left by the creature. She keened softly, it wasn’t enough, _she_ wasn’t enough, she needed—oh, God, she needed it back. Four fingers in her cunt, up to the knuckle, grinding herself against the heel of her palm, managed to take the edge off. Elinor pressed her face into the grass, panting, writhing, the creature’s spend running down her fingers and thighs, more and more desperate by the second—

“Ah, wonderful, we’ve already started.”


	2. The Creatures of the Forest

Elinor gasped and turned her head towards the voice. Mind hazy as it was, it took her a second to place it, to recognize the person it was attached to, and then she yelped as she recognized her cousin Charles. She turned onto her knees, shame winning out over arousal, and tried to pull her chemise down with shaking hands.

She stammered, “Charles, oh, be careful, in the river, there’s—”

“I know,” he said airily. “It won’t bother me. Looks like it bothered you, though, hey?” He crossed the clearing and crouched in front of her, face bright and unconcerned, and began digging in his jacket pocket. “Did a fine job of it, too—ah, there we are.” Charles pulled a small silver whistle from his pocket and blew, three sharp blasts which Elinor could barely hear.

She stared at him in confusion. “Ch-Charles,” she said slowly, and he cocked his head at her. “That thing, in the river, it—it attacked me, and…”

“And did a damned fine job of it, like I said, pardon my language, Ellie.” Charles blinked. “ _No_. Don’t tell me you don’t know?”

“Know _what_?” Elinor cried. “I don’t—it just—and now I—I—oh, Charles, please, help me!”

Charles laughed, brown hair falling into his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, cousin. I’ll help you.” He stepped behind her, and then hooked one arm around both her upper arms and dragged her backwards into his lap. Elinor cried out in alarm, but he pulled her tight against him and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sit tight, Ellie. Now. I’ll try to remember the story, but it’s been a while since Father passed it on to me, so I might not remember every detail.

“Back before the Revolution, when our family came into possession of this part of the state, there were all kinds of stories about it—the Mohawks wouldn’t go near it, and neither would the Puritans, a lot of nonsense about curses and demons and whatnot. So old Edward Barnes—you’ve seen his portrait, right, in the front hall?—bought it for a song, and built his house, and then discovered—well, what _you’ve_ discovered, Ellie! The creature in the river.” Charles propped his chin on her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye Elinor could see him smiling. “And that wasn’t all, either, because he found some other _very_ interesting things in the woods, which I don’t doubt you’ll be seeing shortly—oh, hold _still_ , Elinor, you silly girl, they won’t hurt you!” He shifted his legs until his knees forced her own legs apart; Elinor moaned, muffled by his hand, at the stretch, at the feeling of the creature’s spend leaking out of her. “Not if you’re good, anyway.” Charles took his hand from her mouth and trailed it down her neck, cupping one small breast in his hand and pinching the nipple through the fabric of her chemise. It sent a spike of arousal down through her belly, and her legs twitched, trying in vain to close.

“No,” she panted. “No, Charles, don’t…”

“Oh, hush,” he said irritably, pinching her nipple again. “Where was I…right, yes, so Edward Barnes came to an agreement with these creatures, which was that they’d let him and his family live there, and profit off the land, and so forth—and, Ellie, I don’t know what Uncle Thomas and Auntie Dora tell _you_ about it, but us Barneses have been more or less just printing money ever since, so it was really a wonderful deal, all things considered.” He squeezed her breast again, and then moved his hand downwards—Elinor squirmed, trying to pull away, but the creature had exhausted her. Weakly, she wondered if she would find debauchment at the hands of her cousin worse than that of the creature. Charles rubbed his palm in slow, wide circles over her sex. “The tradeoff was that, when the creatures requested it, through—oh, well, cousin, you’d find that part dreadfully boring, and I’m afraid I don’t grasp it all myself.

“Well, when they request it, never mind how they do, us Barneses are supposed to provide them with a girl. Any girl will do, in a pinch, but really for preference it’s got to be another Barnes. Which is where you come in, Ellie,” he said brightly, sliding two fingers into her despite her whine of protest. Doing so seemed to make him lose his train of thought for a second; he pumped them in and out a few times, giving a low whistle of astonishment, then withdrew his fingers, shining with Elinor’s slick and the leavings of the creature, and inspected them absently before pressing them to her lips. “You’ve already met the river creature, of course, and as I said you’ll be introduced to the other ones any minute, so— _ah!_ ”

In a flash of temper, Elinor bit down on his fingers; Charles yanked them from her mouth, pulled her close again, and then laid a vicious slap on her cunt. Elinor cried out and jerked, and he snapped “ _Behave_ , Elinor!” and did it again and again and it hurt, it shouldn’t have felt good, but it _did_ , and she couldn’t get away. Charles was panting roughly in her ear by the time he was done, by the time he was gently rubbing her aching cunt once more. “Behave, because these things are nowhere near as patient as me. Now. Are you sorry?”

Elinor sniffed and nodded. “Yes, Charles,” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

“And will you behave?”

“…Yes.”

“Good,” he said, and shifted his hold on her so that her arms were still more or less pinned to her sides by his own arms, but his other hand was free now, and he fondled her breasts, gently swiping his thumb over her nipples. “As I was _saying_. They’ve never been known to keep a girl longer than, oh, I believe four months was the record? And all of them have been returned in one piece—well, mostly all, but the records say that the exception was _extraordinarily_ willful and bad-tempered, and you, Ellie, are far too sensible for that. Right?” He said, and slapped her again, this time lightly, playfully. She twitched and whimpered. Four months. Four _months_ , of being taken again and again by the creature, by whatever was in the woods. Elinor realized, to her horror, that her hips were undulating against Charles’s hand.

“I can’t,” she gasped. “Charles, I can’t, please, it’s too—”

“Nonsense, Ellie,” he laughed. He pinched her clitoris briefly and she bit her lip, whining deep in her throat, hips arching. “You seemed to be enjoying it when I found you, hey?” He rubbed her again, almost soothing. “And besides, think of what good you’re doing for our family! I know it seems a little, well, archaic—I was certainly alarmed when Father told me, I can tell you that!—but really, it’s for the best. Soon it’ll all be—” he dipped his fingers into her cunt again and, despite herself, she clenched around them, turning her face to hide in his neck, “—happy memories.” He kneaded her breast, gently fucking her with his fingers, and the haze descended over her mind again. Elinor moaned softly, the heat in her stomach returning, expanding, channeling her thoughts only towards climax.

Charles began murmuring encouragements to her, _good girl, Ellie_ s and _you’ll be sweet for them, won’t you_ s, and she almost, almost didn’t think about what the _them_ could be or that it was her cousin’s hands groping her body. Elinor was vaguely aware of noises in the forest beyond, but they weren’t important, not when she was so, so close to being satisfied again, to quieting the need that had burned within her since the river creature had left. She ground her hips, wanting more, deeper, and she was so nearly, nearly, _nearly_ —

Charles stopped suddenly and exclaimed “Ah! There they are!” Elinor whined— _so close!_ —and opened her eyes, and then shrieked, wriggling against Charles in an attempt to break free. Not ten feet in front of them a beast emerged from the trees, huge, roughly bipedal, covered in grey fur and with a triangular, lupine head. Even stooped as it was, it was easily taller than Charles, and half again as broad.

“Goodness,” he said vaguely. “ _Just_ like Father said. Oh, for—Elinor, hold still, won’t you, I _said_ it wouldn’t hurt you.” He stood, dislodging Elinor, who collapsed to the ground, disheveled, frozen. The beast—the…wolf-man?—moved closer with a huff. Fear choked her throat, and Elinor managed to push herself up onto her elbows and twist around to look for her cousin.

“Charles,” she croaked out, and he paused in dusting himself off and cocked his head. Elinor knew, after everything he’d said, that it was useless, but she couldn’t help it. “Please…please don’t leave me here with it, please, wait…”

He smiled, looking a little abashed as he scooped up her long-discarded picnic basket and clothing. “Those things don’t much appreciate company, Ellie.” The _thing_ in question continued advancing on her, and now Elinor could see, between its legs, its—God save her, its cock, emerging glistening from some sort of sheath. She whimpered, trying to back away. “I really must be going, now; see you in…oh, July or thereabouts, I should say. Perhaps you’ll be back in time for the Fourth!” And with that he turned and trotted out of the clearing. Elinor cried out, reaching a hand towards his retreating back in vain.

And then the wolf-man was on her; one massive hand (paw?) closed around her thigh and yanked her backwards through the grass. Elinor moaned, insides knotted in terror and the persistent arousal that kept her still wet, still dripping, even though she quailed at the feeling of the wolf-man’s claws. It pressed its other hand to her shoulders, shoving her face to the ground while lifting her hips. She clutched at the ground, trembling in fear, and felt a sudden puff of hot breath over her backside. Something bumped against her—its nose? She thought, and then thought of this beast sniffing her posterior as though they were two dogs making acquaintance, and had to stifle a mad little laugh. Another puff of breath, and a rumbling growl, and then, without any more warning, the slow, long swipe of a rough tongue all along her lower lips, nearly digging between them. Elinor’s legs felt weak with more than fear, and she mewled helplessly. _Good girl Ellie_ , she thought bitterly. Was that what she was? Well, it was better than _supper Ellie_ —and another lick, reminding her again that Charles had not let her climax. Warring with the last scraps of her shame, Elinor arched her back, trying to encourage the wolf-man to lick more at her clitoris, which it did, driving her to squirm and let out a series of soft cries.

The wolf-man fairly shoved its face between her legs, licking and lapping up the fluids spilling from her cunt until Elinor spasmed in a weak climax that left her even less satisfied than before, sobbing and gasping into the dirt. She needed—she _needed_ , that was all, ever since the river creature had first fucked her open and filled her that afternoon it was all she could do, was need and need and need, and the wolf-man had brought her closer, but not close enough. And then it pulled back, taking away its tongue, and she was denied even that and moaned in despair at the loss and at herself.

Then the wolf-man surged forward with a huff, straddling her and covering her back, and she felt its cock rub against her, between her thighs. She hadn’t got a good look at it, but from how it felt, its girth could have rivaled any of the tentacles and it was so long that its head nearly bumped against her navel. Elinor squeezed her thighs around it, rutting against its length; the smell of the wolf-man enveloped her and sent her dizzy, and the beast itself growled in her ear. The cock was wet, whether through some property of its own or from rubbing against her cunt she couldn’t tell. _Sloppy cunt_ , said some part of her mind, _bitch in heat_ , and Elinor moaned “No,” grinding back against the wolf-man. It licked the side of her face and pulled back, positioning its cockhead at her entrance.

Elinor swallowed. Another _no_ hung on her lips, pointless, useless, overwhelmed by the part of her mind rolling on the floor and screaming _yes yes yes_ , and she could only moan, a low, desperate sound.

Then the wolf-man slammed its cock into her and she really did scream.

She didn’t know if she’d climaxed or simply swooned, but when she came to herself, the wolf-man was fucking her in a complete frenzy, snarling in her ear and pinning her wrists to the ground with one hand. There was a low, continuous sound that Elinor took a second to place as coming from herself, an “ _ah_ — _ah_ — _aaah!_ ” forced out of her by the relentless pounding. She writhed, trying to part her thighs, to make it easier on herself, but the wolf-man had her fairly boxed in and her legs shook with the effort of not simply collapsing under its onslaught.

It should have hurt. It should have hurt, Elinor knew; there was no way she should have been able to take a cock of such size so deep that the beast’s testicles slapped against her cunt with every thrust, with such speed and force, without pain, but instead at each thrust the hot feeling in her abdomen intensified, pulsing within her until she hung on the edge of climax just from the cock inside her. The river creature, she realized, had done something to her, and Elinor felt absurdly grateful—that it had prevented her from pain, maybe even that it had introduced her to such an unimaginable pleasure. She arched her back, pressing her face and chest to the ground, and the wolf-man slammed into her again and again, hammering at some place inside of her until Elinor climaxed with an incoherent cry. The pleasure didn’t abate, and the wolf-man released her wrists, instead grabbing her hair, pulling it out of what remained of its style and yanking her back until she was forced onto her elbows again. It growled and panted above her, and behind that and her own wails of pleasure Elinor could _hear_ the wet sounds of its cock plunging in and out of her.

Elinor had no idea how she was meant to continue to bear this for one more minute, let alone four months; her body, impossibly, was screaming again with the need to climax, her head filled with the wolf-man’s scent and her cunt stretched to its utmost around its cock. Its pace was slower, now, an identifiable pause between thrust in and pull out, but no less punishing. Elinor clutched desperately at the ground for something to hold on to, arms shaking, and then reached between her legs. As she moved her hand towards her clitoris it brushed her belly, and she realized she could feel the cock in her from the outside, and in barely any time at all she was trembling her way through another climax. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and rubbed again and again at her clitoris, until she was shuddering ceaselessly, until she could barely hold herself up, until soft sounds, wrecked sounds, _bitch in heat_ sounds spilled from her lips like slick from her cunt.

The wolf-man growled its approval. She could feel something odd happening—the base of its cock seemed to be growing, swelling, surely that was impossible? (Then again, before this day, there were a great many things Elinor had thought impossible.) It still shoved the whole length of the thing into her without hesitation, and the growing ache Elinor felt she thought was for something different—it was a need-ache, not a pain-ache, and she found herself whispering “Please, please, please” as the beast continued to fill her. And—definitely, it was swelling, swelling much faster, and the wolf-man sped up its thrusts, hauling on her hair like the signal-cord in a trolley, other hand lifting from the ground to seize her hips and press her back against it. She tried once more, in vain, to spread her legs, frantically rubbing her clitoris, and then the beast slammed into her with a roar that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck, and Elinor felt the base of its cock swell inside her cunt, filling her and filling her, and when the beast rocked its hips back it _didn’t come out_.

Elinor panted desperately, wriggling pinned on the wolf-man’s cock, and then she felt, she _actually felt_ it begin to spend inside of her, and climaxed once more, convulsing with a moan. The wolf-man slumped on top of her, crushing her to the ground, and licked her face once more. It was still rutting into her with shallow little thrusts, still spending into her, and she was stretched so tight she could feel every pulse of it, and the ache, the desperate burning, began to subside. Elinor let out a grateful little keen, rocking back against the great furred bulk of the wolf-man.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, under the wolf-man, shivering as it filled her cunt with its spend, only that when the swelling finally subsided and it pulled out, leaving a trail of spend behind it, that she felt so unimaginably sated. Elinor shifted, feeling more run out of her, and reached down to press her fingers against her entrance—no longer with need, but only a lazy sort of interest. The wolf-man shoved its snout into her face, licked her again, and she realized it smelled the same as the river creature’s fluid had tasted: fennel and bitter, underneath the doggish funk. She reached up, forgetting her fear, forgetting anything but how incredibly she had been filled, and the wolf-man huffed and slung her onto its back.

She clung to its fur as it ran through the darkening woods, in a lolloping, uneasy half-four-legged, half-two-legged gait. It carried her deeper into the woods, along the river, and up into a narrow canyon, and then deposited her at the mouth of a cave and gave her a nudge forward. Elinor still hadn’t regained her strength, and her legs wobbled as she staggered into the cave, shivering at the cool, damp air against which her chemise offered no protection. In the time it had taken for the wolf-man to bring her here, the heat inside of her had flared again, and she swallowed at the feeling of the wolf-man’s leavings sliding down her thighs.

The cave walls were faintly luminescent with jade-green light, and Elinor could see against the far wall a great dark mass, which unfolded and became dotted with sets of eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. She stumbled to a halt, and the wolf-man behind her shoved her forward again. The mass unfolded further and she saw—more wolf-men, around eight of them, varying in size but all along the same build as the one who had brought her here. They padded towards her, whuffing and sniffing, and began to crowd around her. Elinor moaned softly, and one of them crouched and pressed its face into her crotch. The image came to her again, as it had in the clearing—doggy greeting. One after another they sniffed at her and licked her, enormous hands pawing at her, surprisingly careful with their claws. She was grabbed and pulled from one to the other, unsteady on her feet, now with her front pressed against one as it rutted between her thighs, now with her back against another as it drew its hands up her torso, claws pricking through the chemise, fairly mauling at her breasts, and she whimpered again and again, their collective smell and presence overwhelming her.

One of the wolf-men finally pushed her to her knees, and Elinor obediently tilted her head back and opened her mouth for the cock she was presented. She couldn’t take it all the way to the base, and wrapped her hands around the parts she couldn’t manage, sucking it down as best she could. The taste was thick, salty, mineral. The wolf-man fairly crooned, stroking her head. _Good girl Ellie_ , she thought again, and couldn’t remember why she had ever thought to be _ashamed_ of it. Warmth spread throughout every inch of her body, and when another wolf-man pulled her back to straddle its hips, she whined at the separation from the one in her mouth, until that one stepped forward and slid back inside at the same time as the one beneath her pushed up to fill her, and Elinor’s eyes rolled back in her head.

She was too weak from the afternoon’s and evening’s exertions to ride the beast the way it apparently wanted, so it grabbed her hips and bounced her up and down on its cock, and she moaned gladly around the cock filling her mouth, continuing to stroke what she couldn’t fit until its base swelled, until the wolf-man growled and pulled her head as far down as it would go and began pouring its spend into her mouth, down her throat. Even the brush of her chemise against her clitoris was on the verge of too much stimulation, and Elinor slammed her hips down and rolled them, moaning through her climax, doing her best to swallow everything the wolf-man gave her. There was simply too much of it, though, it spilled out of her mouth and down her chin and made her filthy but so, so warm that Elinor couldn’t care at all. She grasped blindly with her free hand, and a cock was placed in it, and that was enough. The wolf-men packed close around her, massive hands finally tearing away the chemise and smearing the spend over her chest, tweaking her nipples, rubbing her stomach where the cock of the one fucking her pressed tight inside her, and then that one thrust to the hilt inside her and swelled and began to fill her cunt again. Elinor cried out—the need inside of her had sharpened and clarified, she knew what she needed, more than anything, what would make her climax, and it was the wolf-men fucking her, in any hole they desired, and she let go of the cock still emptying itself into her mouth and rubbed herself, hand sticky with wolf-man spend, the cock inside her pressed right up against some unnameable, beautiful spot, and she climaxed again and again and when those wolf-men were satisfied for the moment they were replaced by others, stuffing her silly and spending on her, into her, over and over…

Limp, trembling, barely able to do anything but moan and touch herself and whatever cock she was presented, fog in her head crowding out all thought but _good girl Ellie_ , Elinor was lifted up by one of the wolf-men, which allowed her to cling to its broad shoulders as it slid its cock into her soaking, spend-filled cunt, powerful grip on her buttocks jerking her along its length. She felt another one of them step up to her back, and she let out a brief, questioning whine that was answered with a rumble and the pressure of a cockhead at her anus. It was still slick and well-stretched from the tentacle—God, had that really been just this afternoon?—and the wolf-man fucked into her easily, matching the rough, quick pace of the one in her cunt. Elinor wailed, all words entirely beyond her, clutching at the wolf-man’s shoulders. Suddenly, she was pulled back against the other one, as it grabbed her calves and spread her wide, impaled on the two cocks; caught, she squirmed desperately, finding just enough strength to fuck herself, rocking her hips back and forth as the wolf-men let out satisfied snarls above her. They both pounded into her, and she clawed at the wolf-man’s chest, at its thick fur, actually _squealing_ as she was fucked through another climax, spasming helplessly, as each wolf-man in turn swelled up and stilled inside of her, as she was filled with yet more of their spend.

They lowered her back to the floor, dripping from both holes, and the wolf-men continued passing Elinor around, on her back and on her knees, above and below them as they saw fit, using her mouth and cunt and ass. One, the smallest, even managed to lodge its cock fully inside her mouth as she knelt in front of it, forcing her jaw wide and pouring pulse after pulse of spend down her throat as she whined and writhed in ecstasy on the cock filling her ass, scrabbling at its muscular, furry legs. Others fucked her with only her shoulders and head still resting on the floor, the rest of her body lifted off the ground and shaking with each thrust as they stooped over and plowed into her, wringing loud, desperate wails from Elinor as they battered her cunt through yet another climax. Some of them, when her cunt was free, licked her to shivering, keening climaxes, but she reached more of them, more of the inexhaustible store the river creature had apparently given her, through touching herself and, when she was too exhausted even for that, through the simple presence of the wolf-men’s cocks satisfying the craving the creature had given her as well.

Some of the wolf-men finally left off, sated, and curled up where they lay, but some were apparently still not finished. Elinor lay beneath one, every limb quivering, unable to do anything but mewl softly and slowly undulate her hips with the wolf-man’s motions as it held her half-in and half-out of its lap. She was splattered with the wolf-men’s release by that point, dazed with its taste and scent, more dripping from her ass and overstuffed cunt with every thrust. She could feel another climax building and writhed feebly, hands opening and closing. The wolf-man took its time, pulling its swelling cock in and out of her, hands wrapped around her thighs and almost able to close around them, and then pulled her all the way onto its cock with a final jerk. Her cunt, long since unable to contain all the spend the wolf-men fucked into her, leaked around the base of the beast’s cock; Elinor shuddered, a final climax rolling through her as she was filled yet again, and then sank into quiet oblivion.

* * *

Elinor woke, and for a terrible second could not remember where she was, or what had happened, or why everything around her stank of dog and sweat and fennel; she moved, and her thigh cramped, and everything came flooding back to her. Need rolled through her again, but laced with deep soreness, and when she moved her hand down to experimentally feel her sex, she winced in pain.

She was lying in among the wolf-men, and her stirring apparently alerted one of them to her consciousness, for it whuffed in her face and then turned her over and began to penetrate her. Elinor moaned, half in arousal and half in pain, and sluggishly waved a hand behind her, trying to bat the thing away to no avail. It was gentle, at least, but that only counted for so much for a creature of its endowment and after a night such as that, and Elinor began to do what she hadn’t done since the clearing: try to struggle away from the creature fucking her. As she did so, some of the haze in her head cleared and she began to wonder, had that really been _her_ last night, spreading her legs for every one of these beasts and begging for more, climaxing more and harder in those hours than she was sure some people ever had in their whole lives? Had she truly enjoyed being used by those creatures?

It could only appear that she had, and that the one in her now was not going to stop any time soon, and Elinor began to whimper and struggle harder, despite her terrible soreness, waking more of the wolf-men. They shifted around her, rolling away or to their feet, and the one inside her pressed both hands on her shoulders, pinning her to the floor; Elinor sobbed hoarsely, for despite the pain, despite her shameful behavior, some part of her _loved_ it.

Suddenly there was a great deal of growling and snapping above her, and the wolf-man on her was unceremoniously pulled away. Elinor slumped sideways, turning her head to see what had happened; the wolf-man who had first collected her had hauled the other one back and was snarling at it, while that one whimpered and cowered and some of the other, more awake wolf-men interjected their own sounds. Then the first wolf-man—perhaps he was their pack leader?—turned to her and scooped her up, making its awkward way out of the cave into the late morning light as some of the others tagged at its heels.

She was carried down the hillside, to some flat rocks by the river. The wolf-man set her down and nudged her towards the water. Elinor blinked, and then realized how terribly hungry and thirsty she was, and how filthy—covered in dirt and sweat and, well, other things—and limped the rest of the way to the river, wading into the pleasantly chilly water.

She scooped up some of it in her hands and drank until she was satisfied, and then turned to washing herself as best she was able with her body aching as it did and with no washcloth or soap. As Elinor was finally considering the matter of her hair, tangled and matted, she felt something brush her ankle in a familiar fashion. She gasped, but before she could react more, the river creature had twined its tentacles all the way up her legs, and wrapped around her wrists as well. Elinor turned her head to the riverbank, and saw the wolf-men sprawled on the rocks, watching her with lazy interest.

A tentacle slipped its way into her mouth. The fluid again; Elinor swallowed, and felt her stomach tremble, her hunger vanishing. More of it poured down her throat, and she sucked obediently as more tentacles lifted out of the water, dripping with that same fluid, and began to stroke her sex and between the cleft of her buttocks. Her knees went weak, and Elinor would have fallen if the tentacles had not held her upright—the fluid was so wonderfully cool against her sore, abused lower lips, and she felt the ache ebb away from her muscles and the beautiful, warm need begin to cloud her head. The tentacle rubbing between her cheeks slipped inside and began to release its fluid as well, thrusting shallowly as it did. Elinor’s eyelids fluttered and she moaned, all her waking thoughts of shame cleared away by that blessed fluid, and the more of it she swallowed, the more of it the creature released inside of her and rubbed over her, the better and better she felt. Her clitoris twitched and pulsed, and the tentacle rubbed against it, and then one of those small ones opened up its tip and latched on, and Elinor climaxed with a sigh.

She heard splashing, and turned her head to see the wolf-man who had carried her there wading to her, already erect. Elinor reached out, stroking its cock with both hands, and the tentacles lifted her up into position, and between them and the wolf-man she was lowered onto its cock, where she settled with a glad moan. Her skin felt so beautifully sensitive, and the rub of the wolf-man’s coarse fur against her inner thighs, her taut belly, her nipples stiff from the cold water, made her clench and shiver around the cock and tentacles stuffing her. She wrapped her legs around the wolf-man as far as she was able, braced her hands on its chest, and began to ride it, supported by its hands and the tentacles, mewling happily around the tentacle in her mouth. The one on her clitoris continued its work, and the one inside her swelled and thickened to complement the wolf-man’s cock, and Elinor climaxed again, and again before it was done, need and satiety intertwining wonderfully within her. The wolf-man’s cock swelled, and lodged firmly inside her, and began to give her the first load of spend she would take that day, and as she took that and the river creature’s fluid, utterly filled and climaxing once more, Elinor couldn’t imagine ever being happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you actually read all of this, thank you! I’m coping, euh, how you say…poorly with quarantine and with various academic responsibilities (Hey kids! Don’t go to grad school, it sucks shit! It sucks shit even worse when every library is closed and you can’t leave the house!) and have decided to deal with that by writing extremely me-targeted pornography and chucking it alone into the hell that is Online. Sometimes you really want tentacles and werewolf gangbangs and don’t want to deal with the fact that apparently everyone else who’ll write it has huge ovi/pregnancy and/or cervix penetration kinks :(.
> 
> Well. Anyway. Again, hope you enjoyed, and stay safe out there.
> 
> [OVERLONG PLOT SUMMARY FOR THOSE WHO SKIPPED DOWN HERE:  
> Elinor Barnes, a 19-year-old upper-class girl of the Gay Nineties, goes for a walk on her family’s Unspecified Vaguely Hudson River Valley Location country estate, following the advice of her older cousin Charles to seek out a particular clearing. Once there, she is attacked by a tentacle monster which engages in porn-typical tentacle monster behavior—i.e., fucking her in all major orifices—while also orally and anally supplying her with an aphrodisiac/painkiller which makes her able to tolerate rough sex/large insertions/marathon sex, able to have effectively unlimited orgasms, and desperately horny in a way that she can’t satisfy on her own. She is initially badly frightened and overstimulated by her orgasms and by the situation as a whole, but under the influence of the aphrodisiac comes to enjoy herself. Eventually the tentacle monster leaves, and she is startled by an unknown-to-the-reader voice. In the second chapter, that voice is revealed to be her cousin Charles, who acts alarmingly unconcerned about the state he finds Elinor in and implies that he knows something she doesn’t about the situation. She pleads with him to help her, and he pins her in his lap, gropes her, and vaginally fingers her while explaining, in a somewhat condescending fashion, the Barnes family secret. To wit: the long-ago Barnes patriarch cut a deal with the tentacle monster and some unspecified monsters that live in the woods to be allowed to remain and profit off the land in return for the occasional provision of a girl as, effectively, a temporary sex slave. Elinor has been chosen. Elinor bites Charles during this explanation, and he spanks her pussy for it. Although Elinor is distressed by the situation, Charles’s affect, and his relation to her, tired and under the influence of the aphrodisiac, she doesn’t fight him further. He then leaves her to be fucked by the unspecified monster, which turns out to be a wolfman. The wolfman briefly eats her out before fucking and knotting her and then taking her back to its pack, where Elinor becomes the center of a wolfman gangbang. Over that time, she realizes that she has in fact been dosed with aphrodisiac, and furthermore that the most effective way to satisfy herself is with (drumroll) wolfman dick & semen. She eventually falls unconscious from exhaustion with a knot still in her. On waking the next morning, a wolfman begins fucking her again, despite the fact that the aphrodisiac/painkiller is wearing off, leaving her in pain and clear-headed enough to be afraid. That wolfman is stopped and she is taken down to the river, where the tentacle monster makes its encore appearance to feed her more aphrodisiac and she is fucked by both it and a wolfman, under the aphrodisiac’s influence accepting her current station in life.]


End file.
